Too Devious to Tame (The Giovanni Clan) (20 page)

When her body finally stopped shaking, she could taste the salt of tears in her mouth. Giorgio kissed them off her face, and he released her from her bonds, and pulled her into his embrace. She had to smile at his grumbled, "If this is pretending, then I hate to see what will happen when we do this for real."

She snuggled into him and simply gave her herself up to the moment.

Chapter Eighteen

Jemima woke up on her own the next morning. Entangled in the sheets, she stretched and moaned. Her skin felt too tight for the body it covered and so sensitive the soft sheets chafed and awoke nerve endings still tingling in remembered pleasure. She smiled and sank deeper into the covers that smelled of sex, champagne, wax, and the unmistakable aroma of Giorgio. He had been like a man possessed last night, determined to try every last toy designed to send her along the rungs of torturous pleasure.

Jemima didn't know it was possible to die that many “petit morts” and still live, and she was supremely grateful that Stella had been the only other person in the house, and that there were no immediate neighbors to have heard her screams of completion. Marco had played her body like a finely tuned instrument, and Jemima had simply ridden the waves of sensation crashing over her. He'd kissed the faint scars left on her body and retraced the steps another candle had forever imprinted on her back, with the low burning candle that had been part of the toys. At his hands the wax had aroused, teased, and burned away the bad memories, replacing them with sighs of completion and wonder. The hold the past had on her body and soul had melted away at the touch of his gentle yet demanding hands.

The sun sat high in the sky, and Jemima blinked in the rays filtering through the gap in the curtains, when she rolled over. The by now familiar waves of sickness were absent this morning, but then again, looking at the high zenith of that ball of fire it had to be midday. She had slept the morning away, it seemed. Jemima giggled at the thought. It wasn't exactly surprising, considering how little last night had to do with sleep.

She gingerly swung her legs over the bed and straightened up slowly. Her stomach rolled, but she didn't feel the need to dash to the bathroom. Instead she made her way across slowly, grateful for the fact that she had the room to herself. After last night she wasn't sure she wouldn't blurt out her feelings to Giorgio the minute she saw him. Despite his tender determination last night she wasn't at all sure he would welcome any declarations of love, and for now the intense physical connection they shared would have to suffice.

She couldn't burden him with her emotions when he was so involved in keeping her safe and stopping Beauchamp from destroying Marco's business endeavors. Her happy mood took a severe dent at the thought of the French vineyard owner. She knew only too well what that man was capable of, and she would do anything to spare Elise and Marco the heartache that man had wrought on Giorgio and her. Regardless of Giorgio's dictate to stay away from the man, Jemima had every intention to seek him out and confront him.

He wouldn't expect that from her, and thus she had an advantage she intended to exploit. Of course it might also be the final nail in the coffin with Giorgio, but she would have to take that risk. Too much was at stake here.

Her mind made up, she ran herself a bath and half an hour later padded down the long, winding staircase in search of Stella.

She found the older woman in the kitchen. The huge space took up the entire length of the back of the house and afforded fantastic views over Hampstead Heath. Like the rest of the house it was decorated in warm earthy tones that made you feel at home. Light, spacious and airy, with a long breakfast bar separating the kitchen area from the dining room, the kitchen was the hub of the house. From here Stella Giovanni reigned supreme. Stella hadn't heard Jemima's barefooted and silent approach and she took a moment to study the other woman.

The years had been kind to Stella. Even though she was in her late fifties by now, her long, straight, jet black hair showed no hint of grey. Normally worn in an elegant up-do, it tumbled half way down Stella's still slender back. Her flawless olive complexion showed very few lines and was slightly flushed. Judging by the casual sweat pants and tank top she wore, Stella had just finished a work out.

Leaning against the breakfast bar, she was surfing the news channel, her full lips pursed in irritation, one slender foot tapping the floor tiles in an impatient staccato. She frowned and threw the remote on the kitchen counter with a muttered Italian curse.

Jemima cleared her throat to announce her presence and immediately wished she hadn't, when Stella's crystal blue gaze swept over her. It pinned her in place under Stella's silent assessment until she smiled and inclined her head. Jemima released the breath she hadn't been aware of holding and grabbed the back of a chair for support.

"
Ciao,
Jemima, did you sleep well? I checked on you earlier, just after Giorgio left, but I didn't have the heart to disturb you. I reckoned you needed your sleep after last night. I knew that boy would put my little surprises to good use."

She winked at her, and Jemima wanted the ground to swallow her up. She was so not having that conversation with her husband's aunt. It was embarrassing enough knowing that Stella had no doubt heard them last night. They hadn't been quiet, and big as the house was, noise carried. But knowing that it'd been Stella who'd placed those toys in Giorgio's room—well, that took
too much information
to an entirely different level of awkward.

As though she'd read her mind, Stella laughed, a rich, husky sound that had Jemima's cheeks flame even more.

"Don't look so embarrassed. I figured the two of you hadn't had much
fun
since you got back together, and nothing takes your mind of one's worries as fast as good sex. The fast, hard, dirty kind, and from what I heard last night, that's exactly what you got, girl."

"Stella,
please
." Jemima couldn't look at her.
May the ground swallow me up right now.

"Really, Jemima, you do surprise me. I wouldn't have thought a girl with your…" Her voice faltered, and she stepped toward Jemima. The comforting hand on her shoulder soothed some of Jemima's unease, as Stella continued. "But never mind that. Let us not speak of that ever again. It's all in the past, and we must look to the future. You're a Giovanni now, and with a bambino on the way—"

"I'm not pregnant!" Jemima almost shouted her denial, but Stella simply smiled.

"Of course you are, and even if you're not, you soon will be. Giorgio needs to settle down and start a family. He will make a brilliant father, make no bones about it, you'll see."

Jemima couldn't really believe what she was hearing.

"Does he not get a say in the matter? What if he doesn't want to start a family, yet, or ever?" Even as she said that, Jemima saw him in her mind's eye with his goddaughter and yesterday with his cousins. Oh he wanted a family all right, but did he want that family with her? And perhaps more importantly could she be the wife and mother he needed her to be? Wishing for something did not make it so.

"Jemima, look at me." Stella's voice held an edge of steel, but she smiled when Jemima looked up. "I have known that boy since he was a mere babe in arms. Giorgio has done plenty of things himself that he has no reason to be proud of. He will not hold your past against you, and besides, that boy is besotted with you. Anyone can see that, so whatever silly thoughts are bouncing around in that pretty head of yours, you can forget them now. He will be pleased as punch about the baby. Just make sure you tell him soon, before he figures it out himself, or one of the others points it out to him. Because they will."

"But—" Jemima tried to get her point across, but Stella cut her protest off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"No, I don't want to hear the ins and outs of it. That's for you two to sort out between yourselves. The only concern I had was the safety of my family, but Giorgio assures me that is all taken care of. He is even now talking to your sister and Marco, to apprise them of the situation. He didn't want Elise to switch on the television and jump to the wrong conclusions."

His thoughtfulness brought tears to Jemima's eyes, and Stella clucked her tongue and handed her a tissue.

"Sit down, Jemima, before you fall down. Hormones are a bitch. You will cry at everything and drive that poor boy to distraction. I know my Sandro had no clue what to do with me every time I was pregnant.
Dio santo
, half of the time I didn't know myself." Stella smiled to herself. She seemed far away for a few seconds before she shrugged her shoulders. "So, you see, if you're not pregnant, I will eat my hat. I'll book you a doctor's appointment if you like with my gynecologist. He's the best in the business and very discreet. The sooner we confirm that you are, the better we can plan. You're too thin, so you will need to look after yourself. Can't have anything happen to you or the newest Giovanni, now, can we?"

Jemima just shook her head. There was no point in trying to stop the flow of words. Stella was in full matriarchal form, and the small child in Jemima, who'd lost her mother far too early in her life, lapped up the motherly attention as Stella fussed and plotted and told her tales of Giorgio's childish misdemeanors that her laughing so much her sides ached.

She dutifully ate the lunch Stella prepared and drank another one of Giada's “potions”. She wasn't entirely surprised to learn that Stella and Giada were friends, and had been discussing her in great detail on numerous occasions. Somehow, the thought that they cared enough to do so comforted her, and she finally relaxed. That tiny seed of hope that had taken up residence in her heart ever since she'd opened her eyes back in the Italian hospital, and had heard Giorgio call her his wife—that seed that stubbornly clung to life with its tentative shoots wrapping themselves around her heart—that seed unfurled and grew under Stella's unexpected acceptance. Her utter confidence and expectation that their marriage would work was the further balm to her wounded soul that she needed.

By the time the news of her father's
death
hit the news channel, she could watch the scenes unfold without the fear that had been part of her for as long as she could remember. She didn't need a just returned Giorgio pulling her into an embrace, his quiet reassurance into her ear, that it was all going to be okay, to make that seed burst into full bloom.

****

Giorgio breathed in the fresh scent that was all Jemima, and some of his tension left his big frame. He'd wanted to be back for the breaking news of her father's death, but London traffic and the Beauchamp business problem had conspired against him. He'd left Marco's house after a furious argument with his cousin. They'd never seen eye to eye on the whole business venture with the Beauchamp vineyard, and Marco's rather cold suggestion to use Jemima as bait had had his blood freeze in his veins.

There was no fucking way he would let Jemima anywhere near that fucking bastard, and not, as Marco had suggested, because he didn't trust her. No, the startling truth was, that he could not bring himself to place the woman he loved in any danger. Last night had changed something between them. He'd felt it in the trust she'd exhibited in him, when he'd pushed her boundaries and forced her to relive her nightmares. He'd been so damn proud of her responses, of the way she'd opened up to him physically and emotionally, their connection so strong, he'd felt sure they could weather anything.

There had to be another way to bring Beauchamp to his knees, to expose him for the criminal connections he'd made—connections which made him reckless and dangerous. He needed money, and he needed it now, and Giorgio feared Beauchamp would stop at nothing to achieve that goal. While Marco finally agreed with him, his main concern was for Elise and the children, and to buy Beauchamp out by legal means. The problem was that the asking price stated by the French man was astronomical. Even if his vineyard had been worth that amount of money, which it wasn't, neither Marco nor Giorgio could get hold of that amount of cash. Their money was entailed and invested for the family's benefit just like it ought to be. Marco was not prepared to risk his family's future, but then neither was Giorgio, damn it.

Had it just been him, he would have gone in guns blazing. Alfonso had been more than willing to help out in that department, and he knew he had Don Luigi's blessing, but he had Jemima and his future child to consider. He would be no good to them if he ended up in prison himself. Jemima had been let down too many times in the past by the people close to her, the people she'd allowed herself to love. First it had been her father, then her mother, and then him, when he hadn't believed her, and ultimately her sister, too. While her sister had always been there for her and had bailed her out of every scrape, she had always disapproved of Jemima's actions.  What Jemima needed now was stability and unconditional love, and for that he needed to be with her. With the Giovanni behind him he could give her that stability, if only she'd let him.

Seeing her bravely face the news report with his aunt's hand clasped in hers had reaffirmed his conviction that he was on the right path.

Stella nodded at him now and quietly left the room, leaving them on their own in the kitchen. With the flick of a finger he turned off the news channel. He nuzzled into Jemima's neck, and a shudder went through her. He smiled at the way she angled her head to give him better access.